


Hot Pink

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Series: Valentine's Kisses 2019 [26]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged Up, M/M, Meet Cute AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 21:38:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17553686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: It isn't every day that your first kiss comes before the first date, but after meeting Hanamaki, Matsukawa isn't sure if anything they do will ever be normal. Maybe that's part of the appeal.





	Hot Pink

It’s an everyday ride home from his everyday job, and Matsukawa Issei finds himself drifting off to sleep, lulled by the warm sunshine blaring in through the window and dull roar of the train’s wheels grinding on the track. As a feather in the day’s cap, it’s a Friday, so he can go home and unrepentantly finish his nap with zero consequence. That won’t stop him from enjoying the present, though.

However, Matsukawa’s eyes fly open in surprise when a rather stunning stranger with extremely pink hair and a devil-may-care smile straddles his lap. Leaning close to whisper in Matsukawa’s ear, Hot Pink whispers, “In advance, I am extremely sorry for this.”

And then lips are on his. Matsukawa’s sleep-fogged brain lags behind in the realization of what’s happening, and the happy neurons that are awake fire and tell him to enjoy the moment. So he does, and suddenly, a stranger’s teeth are tugging on his bottom lip while heavy lidded eyes with thick blond lashes gaze at him like he’s the only person there. 

As soon as it starts, it’s already over. Hot Pink’s lips glisten with Matsukawa’s saliva, and he thinks they’re both far too pleased about it. Yet the heat of the moment simmers down, and Matsukawa can once again hear the hissed whispers of disapproval from the train’s other passengers.

Hot Pink drops onto the bench next to him and smiles. “Thanks for not punching me in the face.”

“Uh, yeah.” Matsukawa’s cheeks are red, the gravity of what just occurred finally sinking in. “Whatever.”

With a sigh, Hot Pink leans in close and murmurs a bizarre explanation for his actions, and Matsukawa groans in sympathy.

If he were extremely gay and being followed by an age-inappropriate girl his mom set up with on a blind date who won’t take no for an answer, he might try something desperate like macking on a stranger in public, too.

“Get off at the next stop with me,” Matsukawa offers, peering cautiously over the seat back in case Datezilla re-manifests. “It’ll look normal for us to walk together, and there are a few phone stores near my place. Change your number so she can’t call you anymore.”

Hanamaki Takahiro — who Hot Pink had identified himself as — grins, slumping back against the seat. “You are a diamond amongst driveway gravel. And also kind of a genius.”

“I’ll settle for no more PDA.” Matsukawa’s nose wrinkles into a pout. “I think that granny over there is dumping buckets of ice water on us in her head.”

With a snort, Hanamaki mutters, “Probably the closest she’ll ever get to this kind of action.” Gesturing toward his figure — long legs hugged by skinny jeans and a t-shirt with a t-rex barfing a rainbow that appears to be one size too small, finished off with a short-waisted leather jacket that looks new and really old at the same time — he adds, “Look at me. I’m awesome.”

Full of confidence he is sure he doesn’t have, Matsukawa replies, “Hell yeah, you are.”

A smirk blooms on Hanamaki’s lips. “Oh, it is my lucky day.”

Matsukawa knows he’s blushing, but he doesn’t discourage the statement. After all, he had been prepared for a dull night in with takeout and bad tv, but now he’s in the throes of an absurd situation with someone he’s just met but will likely never forget.

Arm in arm, they disembark at Matsukawa’s usual stop and meander casually through the throngs of salarymen hustling home for the day. They’re half a block away from the train platform before Matsukawa blurts, “So why me?”

“Eh?”

He takes a deep breath and collects his thoughts. “You know what I mean. Why did you kiss me out of all the guys on the train? Did I really look like the gayest guy in the car?”

Hanamaki throws back his head and laughs until tears sprout from the corners of his eyes. It’s a joyous sound, and Matsukawa thinks it just might be his favorite thing of the day. “I wouldn’t say that. It would be more accurate to say that I picked you because you’re the one I really, really hoped was into guys. I still don’t know, but you still haven’t punched me or ditched me, so at the very least, you’re a kind soul who sympathizes with dudes with nosy moms and who runs away from any girl wearing kneesocks.”

A bark of laughter slips from Matsukawa of its own accord. “You’re, what, twenty-four, twenty-five?”

“Twenty-four.”

“And by kneesocks, you mean the kind high school girls wear with their ugly plaid skirts, right?”

“Right.”

Matsukawa shudders. “Gross. I’d give a stranger a handjob in an alley to get away from that. And she really didn’t believe you were gay when you told her?”

Hanamaki’s hand slaps over his eyes, and he unleashes a long, tired groan. “My mom told her I was ‘just experimenting’ and that I’d settle down with a normal wife eventually.”

“Oh, that’s a mood, dude.” Matsukawa remembers an emotionally draining conversation with his own parents, trying to explain asexuality to people who are clearly  _ those  _ kind of heteros. “Coming out sucks. It should be illegal to make people explain their sexual preference unless they’re, you know — like, pedophiles or something. Then they can explain it to the business end of a shovel.”

There’s a catch in Hanamaki’s breath as he asks, “So that means you  _ are _ , you know —”

“Queer, definitely. Gay, it comes and goes.” Matsukawa frowns when Hanamaki’s enthusiasm visibly wilts. “I’m ace, but couch cuddles and making out are open for business to all takers.”

“And the gods have smiled upon me yet again.” Hanamaki pecks a kiss on Matsukawa’s cheek, and somehow, it feels more intimate than the open-mouthed thing from earlier. “I don’t suppose you’re into the idea of me taking you out sometime.”

When Hanamaki beams at him, the little angel on one shoulder and the little devil on the other chime in their opinions — both a resounding  _ yes. _ “You know, I think I might.”

“Since I picked the date and time of our first kiss, you get to pick the first date.” He pulls a pen from his gaudy gold purse and tugs them to a stop so he can write his number on Matsukawa’s hand. “I’ve never done the whole kiss and cuddle thing, but if it’s you, I think it’s something I can definitely swing with.”

“I’ll text you when I get home and check my calendar, and we can work something out.” He returns the favor and kisses Hanamaki’s cheek, enjoying the blush that manifests where his lips had just been. “Until we meet again.”

Matsukawa hums a jaunty little tune all the way back to his apartment, his step a lot lighter than a usual Friday, and perhaps he doesn’t need that extra nap, after all.

  
  


Exchanging texts with Hanamaki is an adventure. He communicates in emojis and strange anagrams that Matsukawa has to Google more often than not, but soon this cryptic shorthand comes as naturally to him as the smile he gets every time he hears the  _ meow _ ringtone he has assigned to Hanamaki’s texts alone.

As it turns out, scheduling a date that works for both of them is an obnoxious task, with Hanamaki’s work shifts being primarily in the evening.  _ Block out anything Tuesday through Saturday after six, _ Hanamaki had prompted. 

That leaves an early Sunday evening so Matsukawa can get to bed at a reasonable enough hour to drag his ass into work in the morning. However, he’s willing to forgo a few hours of sleep in the name of good company.

At five sharp, which is early enough to beat the regular dinner crowd but not late enough to avoid flocks of seniors that descend upon restaurants stupidly early, Matsukawa paces back and forth under the canopy of a decent-ish restaurant, fiddling with the buttons on his nice-but-not-too-nice button up shirt that goes well with his best (and cleanest) pair of jeans.

“Can I be a stranger again and kiss you for the first time?” Hanamaki bumps their shoulders together and waggles his brows. “You’re looking lovely as usual, Matsukawa-kun.”

Matsukawa snorts. “You’ve only seen me once, and in my boring work suit. The only thing lovely about those is the part where I get to throw them over the back of a chair and put my sweatpants back on.”

Hanamaki waves a hand in dismissal. “You’d look good in a trash bag, you gorgeous model mother fucker.”

A lady pushing a baby stroller nearby tsks loud enough for them to hear, and they both share a chuckle at that as they go inside. 

The menu is full of fat-filled, delicious food, and Matsukawa wants to eat half of it. He orders some beef concoction covered in cheese, and to his amusement, Hanamaki opts for a pile of cream puffs in lieu of actual food.

“I know you’re grown up enough to know you actually need to eat something with nutritional value here and there,” Matsukawa teases. “Aren’t those going to keep you wired all night?”

Shrugging, Hanamaki answers, “What can I say, I like sweets. Especially ones that are like friggin sugar clouds. That, and it’s probably the most breakfast-y food I’ve eaten in at least a year.”

“Break — ah.” Hanamaki’s normal hours of operation reassert themselves, and it starts to make a little bit more sense. Just a little, but some nonetheless. “You must watch a lot of bad tv.”

Hanamaki groans. “Oh my god, you have no idea.” He perches his cheek onto his open palm and sighs. “I’d watch all the bad tv in the world if the company is good. Mostly it’s just my cat. Good company, bad tv watching etiquette.”

Something warm churns in Matsukawa’s belly at the thought of Hanamaki draped on a couch in pajamas, a cat sprawled out and snoozing on his lap. Which is perfect, because Matsukawa kind of sort of really loves cats and can’t wait for enough deposit money to get one. 

“If you ever want to marathon crappy movies, I have Netflix and a lot of times on Sundays and Mondays.” 

Their conversation is interrupted by the arrival of their food. Matsukawa bites back a laugh when he notices Hanamaki eyeing an entire croquembouche with something akin to lust. “Are you on a date with me or the cream puffs?”

Hanamaki pops one of the puffs off and bites into it, his moan almost lewd in the sheer pleasure it oozes. “Oh my god, I am so lucky I get to have both.” He slurps off the cream lingering on his lips before repeating the process. 

They leave the restaurant way too full and with an entire evening at their disposal. The spring air is warm but not hot, and it smells of all the trees that are bursting forth with life after the wintertime. It may actually be the best weather in the world for a nice first date.

“This is the actual best first date weather,” Hanamaki says, and Matsukawa wheezes at his very thoughts being spoken aloud right as they cross his mind.

“The companionship isn’t bad, either.” Matsukawa reaches over to tangle Hanamaki’s fingers with his own. “So, let’s make this a choose your own adventure date.”

“Oh?” Hanamaki leans in with interest. “I’m listening.”

Matsukawa gives his hand a light squeeze. “Do you want to see a movie or do something else?”

“Something else.”

“Do you want to walk through the park and people watch and judge people’s ugly clothes, or should we go back to my place and make out until it’s time for me to pass out?”

Hanamaki’s grin is wide and beautiful, and it makes Matsukawa’s heart beat just a little bit faster. “I vote we do both.”

“Both?”

“Both.” 

Wrapping his arms around Hanamaki’s, Matsukawa lets the prospect of his hot pink date giving him all the right answers and totally acing the Great Boyfriend test percolate in his brain. Guys and girls alike, when he gets around to mentioning that he’s not interested in sex down the road, they nearly always say something in the neighborhood of ‘oh, you’ll grow out of that eventually’. 

Yet Hanamaki knows this right off the bat and is perfectly happy with just being together. 

He learns all he ever cares to know about the shapes and cuts of clothing while Hanamaki narrates the terrible fashion choices of the residents of Sendai, and afterward, Hanamaki is introduced to Matsukawa’s massive collection of shounen anime and even agrees to marathon a baseball anime full of hand-holding and schmoopy feelings galore. 

Matsukawa doesn’t know where this guy has been all his life, but if things go right — and at the moment, they’re going very, very right — he’ll never have to wonder again.


End file.
